


The Death of Noah Czerny

by e_cat



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Does it count as character death if it's Noah?, Everyone else is there, Gen, I can write things without pynch!, I've written worse, Or Gansey when he was 10?, Probably not my best work, but Noah's the only one who really counts, but look!, i guess?, possibly sad?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:31:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_cat/pseuds/e_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noah sees eight things when he dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Death of Noah Czerny

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had this idea, and then I wrote this idea, and then I let it sit for a couple of days. And now I'm editing and posting it instead of writing a paper. So... good thing I have my priorities straight!
> 
> These character belong to Maggie Stiefvater. The quote in italics is also hers, but I borrowed it for dramatic effect.

The first thing Noah saw when he died was his dead body. Or, maybe not dead; dying. Maybe dead – it was hard to say. Whelk was in the midst of another swing of the skateboard, so he must not have been sure, either. When the weapon hit the Noah on the ground, the Noah watching felt the sting of it, but that may have just been empathy.

A minute later, Whelk dropped the weapon, and fell back on his knees, panting; waiting. He tilted his head to the sky, his face ugly with hope. Noah could nearly feel the hideousness of it inside his friend’s soul: the need for some sort of validation; the desire for some sort of reward. He could feel, too, that there wasn’t going to be one. He looked away.

 

The second thing Noah saw when he died was Gansey. He didn’t know the name at the time, but he felt such a surge of familiarity that it was impossible to ignore the significance of this boy.

He was only ten years old, this boy, and he, too, was dead. Or dying. Whichever. There were so many hornets.

Noah heard the words spoken to this boy, and, although he wasn’t sure why it should, the voice felt familiar: _“You will live because of Glendower. Someone else on the ley line is dying when they should not, and so you will live when you should not.”_

Noah watched as the boy’s eyes sprang open. There was a desperate fervor in them, and that, too, seemed so familiar. The boy climbed to his feet, and he looked around, as if searching for something. He didn’t seem to see Noah, but Noah understood that he wasn’t truly there.

The boy ran back along the path in some sort of panic or excitement, and, suddenly, Noah was gone again, too.

 

The third thing that Noah saw when he died was a forest. He understood in an instant the connection between these three things: he had died, and so this boy had lived, and this forest had been the one to make it happen. _Balance._

The trees wept above him. They whispered in Latin, and Noah didn’t entirely understand – he had rarely attended Latin. But, somehow, they seemed to be apologizing for something. Noah wasn’t entirely certain what these trees had to be sorry for.

There was something so utterly lonely about standing amidst a copse of weeping trees, and Noah thought that perhaps he should join in their lamentation. But there was no reason to, really, and so he simply listened. That, too, felt lonely.

He didn’t realize that the forest was dim and drained already until it flickered out, taking Noah with it.

 

The fourth thing that Noah saw when he died was Ronan. Of course, he didn’t know Ronan’s name, either. What he saw was another aching familiarity attached to a young boy.

He was standing in his father’s bedroom, watching him sleep with an intensity that suggested study. Everything about this boy, even more so than his father, screamed power. But his eyes were full of questions, and his breath was saturated with fear: of himself, and of what he could do.

Noah understood abruptly that this boy was connected to the forest, too. The strength of the trees ran through his veins. His hands could touch the forest and come away richer for it, without him giving anything in return but acknowledgement. Noah was fascinated.

But then the boy’s father plunged into wakefulness. He seemed to have something in his hand that hadn’t been there before, but Noah didn’t get a chance to see what it was, because everything flickered out again.

 

The fifth thing Noah saw when he died was Cabeswater again. He didn’t know the name at the time, but it was easy to assign it in retrospect.

This time, he stood by the side of a pool. The water looked cool, and Noah wondered if he was capable of _feeling_ now that he was dead.

There was something magical about this forest, Noah knew. But, he realized, there were limitations to its power. Try as it might, it could not divert that stream without the help of human hands.

And, as he realized this, Noah was transported once more.

 

The sixth thing Noah saw when he died was Adam. This name he _did_ know, because Adam’s father was yelling it, along with a handful of fairly more vulgar words, as Adam cowered in the corner.

Adam’s father threw a wrench at him, and Adam suppressed a whimper as it bounced off his arm. He hugged the tool to his chest and scurried out of the trailer.

Noah didn’t mean to follow, but he did, and he watched the young boy retreat into the carport outside, still clutching that wrench like a lifeline. Adam pulled the toolbox off of the workbench, and he crawled beneath the car. Noah could hear the small sobs as he worked.

And, again, Noah understood the connection: this boy was what the forest needed. Adam was the answer to the forest’s struggles, and the forest knew it. And Noah was removed once again.

 

The seventh thing Noah saw when he died was again his own dead body. This time, it was so clearly _not-alive_ that Noah couldn’t seem to reconcile it with the memory of living. He reached up to touch his cheek, and it felt not-alive, too.

Noah watched the flies buzz around the meat still clinging to his bones. It looked like he’d been here a while, and Noah vaguely wondered how long he’d been dead.

A leaf scattered in the breeze, and Noah saw that one of his hands had gone missing. He felt a little sick. It was as if it was the absence of this body’s hand that truly marked it as _separate_ from Noah. Noah wasn’t sure whether to be glad that _he_ still had his hand, or if he should mourn the loss of that connection between the part of him that he could feel and the part of him that physically existed.

Staring at one’s own dead body could only be tolerated, Noah discovered, so long as one was still in shock over the existence of it. At this point, Noah was less shocked and more horrified. So, he closed his eyes, and, when he opened them, he was somewhere else.

 

The eighth thing that Noah saw when he died was Blue. It was only for a minute, and it was only this:

Blue’s mother said, “Blue,” and held out a deck of tarot cards. Blue took the cards, and she shuffled them with sarcastic enthusiasm. She held the deck out to a woman who was sitting anxiously in front of her. After a nervous glance at Blue’s mother yielded no discouragement, she reached out to take a card.

And then a force shoved Noah out of the room. A teenaged girl with a scowl and an abnormally large nose told him, “Your kind aren’t welcome here,” and she threw a handful of salt at him. Noah disappeared from the house.

 

After that, Noah was back in Cabeswater. The trees above him rustled with the rightness of it all. He was a part of this forest, and this forest was a part of him, and part of him knew that he wouldn’t be back here until he was shown the way. The thought of leaving these trees was strangely melancholy.

The trees knew more than he did, he knew, but they had shared all that he needed to know for now. They had shown him the secrets to his afterlife. They had given him _hope._

And, because of this, Noah used his voice for the first time since he had died, and he said, “Thank you.”

And the trees replied, “You are a part of something. Do not forget.”


End file.
